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That got Arabella’s attention, as well, who looked up from her pasta to inspect Tempest’s features, too, before her eyes widened in glee. “Oh, my God. Elle’s right. You’re totally blushing! Who is it?”
Tempest was so busted. She couldn’t say the text was just Remy with a time to meet, because that wouldn’t warrant her besotted reaction. And since whatever this thing between them wasn’t public knowledge, she wasn’t ready to spill the beans.
She casually put her phone back on the table, facedown, and shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no one.”
Elle laughed. “Liar,” she said lightheartedly. “You look absolutely smitten right now.”
“Come on, Tempest,” Arabella joined in. “You can tell us. Have you met someone?”
“Maybe,” she murmured, and took a long drink of her tea. That one vague word was all the information she’d offer, but both of the girls jumped right on her reply.
Elle looked completely vindicated and grinned. “You have to tell us who he is!” she demanded.
“Do we know him?” Arabella asked right on the heels of Elle, both of their curiosity at an all-time high.
Tempest absently pushed around the salad on her plate with her fork. She really wanted to share her relationship with Remy with the girls, not to mention having someone to talk to about the stirring of feelings he evoked that just kept getting stronger and stronger. But she also knew if she disclosed to Elle and Arabella who she was seeing, they’d tell Hunter and Maddux, respectively. And lord knew she didn’t want her brothers breathing down her neck or getting all protective over their baby sister—or causing issues for Remy.
So, she opted to keep everything to herself for now. “I’m not ready to say.”
Elle groaned, her disappointment evident. “That’s so not fair. You know we just want you to be as happy as we are, right?”
“Yes,” Tempest replied, and flashed them both a bright smile. “Though just for the record, I’m very happy.”
“With your work and businesses, yes, we know that,” Elle acknowledged. “We’re talking about having a man in your life.”
“Being in love,” Arabella added.
“Finding the one,” Elle chimed in, grinning like a woman in love herself. “Like Arabella and I have.”
God, she was being tag-teamed, for crying out loud. Tempest set her fork on her plate and leaned back in her chair. She’d learned enough about Remy, had seen so many amazing qualities in him she adored, that she wished he could be the one. But the truth of the matter was, despite how much they’d shared thus far and how open and easy their conversations now were, she always felt as though he was holding a big part of himself back. A part he didn’t want to talk about but that was imperative to how he viewed committed relationships.
His horrible divorce, yeah, she could easily understand how that could lead to Remy not trusting women enough to let another into his heart. His ex-wife had been a bitch and didn’t deserve a good, virtuous man like Remy, as far as Tempest was concerned. But during a lot of their late-night conversations this past week, there was one area of Remy’s life they’d never talked about. That when she brought it up, he quickly diverted the subject. And that topic was his family and his past before meeting his ex-wife.
“Why don’t you ask him to the spaghetti dinner that’s in a few weeks to help volunteer?” Elle suggested.
Tempest considered Elle’s idea, which wasn’t a bad one. It would mean spending more quality time with Remy . . . and a way to bring their relationship out in the open.
“Maybe I will,” she said, but made no definite promises.
CHAPTER TEN
“Ahhh, I still can’t believe it’s all mine.”
Remy grinned as he watched Tempest spin around in the middle of the cavernous lower level of the place she’d just bought, her keys and a dozen different manufacturing catalogs clutched to her chest. He’d never seen an empty, almost gutted building make someone so unbelievably happy. The companies he normally contracted with were primarily run by men, who were practical and pragmatic and dispassionate when it came to discussing and scrutinizing the framework of a structure they were hiring Remy to design, renovate, or build from scratch.
But the unequivocal joy that showed on Tempest’s face as she’d given him a tour of each of the different floors—that were nothing more than wide-open, barren spaces that needed a shit ton of work—was infectious. He understood what this moment meant to her. That securing this building made her feel successful and accomplished in her own right. And he wanted to do everything in his power to bring her vision to life, and not just because the contract was substantial.
No, for him, the money was secondary. At the moment, it was all about the guileless hope and optimism radiating from Tempest. Being a part of the aspirations that drove her. As he witnessed her pure enthusiasm, she reminded him of all the things he’d forgotten how to believe in. The pursuit of happiness. The joy of creating something beautiful and awe-inspiring out of virtually nothing. And, most importantly, himself.
It was a shocking and unexpected epiphany.
The past three years since Remy’s divorce, he’d kept his head down and just worked, worked, worked. Taking on one project after another. Dawn until dusk, he’d pushed his limits, until he’d exhausted himself so mentally and physically that he’d just fallen into bed every night . . . only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Day after day. Work hadn’t been about enjoying projects and taking pride and pleasure in what he’d created as much as it had been his way of sticking a Band-Aid on the pain and anger Rachel had inflicted. A way of forgetting how blindsided he’d been by her betrayal and rebuilding what she’d destroyed.
Tempest made him remember what it was like to be young, wide-eyed, and driven for all the right reasons. How he’d used to love grasping onto unique and creative concepts and implementing them, and all the ways he’d seen beyond a dull, lifeless structure and had turned it into a lustrous, unforgettable treasure he’d been honored to be a part of.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was genuinely excited about diving into a project and making Tempest’s dream a reality.
“So, what do you think about these light fixtures for over the bar area?” she asked, walking over to Remy and showing him a picture from one of the many catalogs of furniture, hardware, and fixtures she’d brought in with her. “Or maybe these instead?”
